Warlock Ch 441. God-tier Warlock
Damian turned—and there, lounging like he owned the place. Because, well, technically he kinda did, sat the demon king. Wrapped in living shadows, his horns faintly glowing, his grin wide and unapologetic.
But that wasn't what drew Damian's attention.
No.
It was the presence slumped beside the demon king. Not dead. Not entirely alive either. Just… dormant. A massive, coiled force of chaos and magic, wrapped in thick chains of abyssal magic. The creature's consciousness—what little remained of it—lay sealed inside a cocoon of Damian's own making, guarded by the demon king like a bored babysitter.
Damian blinked. "I see you've got company now."
The demon king tilted his head. "Is that a complint or what?"
"Both."
The king chuckled, leaning back against a shadowy outcropping that hadn't been there a mont ago. "It fell asleep when it got caught. Didn't even protest. Like a grumpy old god who got woken up from his nap."
Damian raised a brow. "Honestly? Sa."
"Well," the demon king said, crossing one leg over the other, "good to see you back, and, more importantly, that we both survived."
"We both nearly died," Damian muttered bitterly.
"Yet here we are," the king said, his grin softening with sothing bordering on actual respect. "And now you hold power even gods might envy."
"It almost destroyed ."
The words ca out in a hoarse whisper. He rembered the burn in his lungs. The scream that never ended. The way his body tried to tear itself apart just to hold the creature's magic in.
"Then why are you here?" the demon king asked knowingly.
Damian stared at the void, hands clenching at his sides. "Because we're not finished yet. The senators escaped. Ralvek's loyalists are still out there. This isn't over."
The demon king studied him with piercing eyes. "And you think I can help you."
"No," Damian said quietly. Then, after a beat… "But you understand power. You know how to control it. Survive it."
A long pause.
Then the demon king laughed—really laughed. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just deeply, knowingly.
"You learn fast, Damian."
Damian let out a breath, shaking his head. "I never asked for any of this."
"No one does," the demon king replied. "But fate doesn't care. You accept it… or you fight it."
Damian's voice dropped. "Then help . Help master this power. If we don't… Haven's not going to survive the next one."
The king was quiet for a mont, watching him. The swirling shadows at his feet curled upward, as if sensing the gravity of Damian's words.
Then, finally, he nodded.
"You've proven worthy of my aid. So…" His tone shifted, curious. "What do you want to do?"
Damian exhaled slowly. "I need two things. A mass healing spell. Sothing that can help everyone in the city."
The king lifted a brow.
"And the second?"
"A Fix spell," Damian continued. "One that can rebuild everything we lost. Hos. Walls. Wards. Sothing that can fix… everything."
The demon king stared at him.
Then blinked.
Then stared harder. "You're insane," he said flatly. "Even kings can't do that."
Damian grinned faintly. "I'm not a king."
He stepped forward, resting his hand gently on the artifact. The mana pulsed imdiately, recognizing him.
"I'm a god-tier warlock now. I can."
The demon king tilted his head, expression sowhere between amusent and disbelief. "Well damn. Let's see if you can draw from that thing's mana core… Just don't wake him up."
"No promises," Damian muttered and pressed his palm against the artifact.
And everything exploded.
Power surged through him—violent, raw, endless. It wasn't a stream. It was a tidal wave.
His muscles locked. His breath vanished. He scread in silence as mana raced through his veins, devouring every wound, every scar, every trace of fatigue. The artifact glowed with impossible brilliance, sigils expanding outward, spinning faster.
And then…
[System Notification]
[You have gained a new skill: Grand Restoration (Mass)]
Restores HP, stamina, minor status effects, and mana to all allies within 300 ters.
Cooldown: 5 minutes. Mana cost: Dynamic (based on number of targets).
[You have gained a new skill: Fix – Worldweaver Edition (Unique)]
Fixes, restores, and reconstructs structures, artifacts, and environnts based on caster's ntal blueprint and mana capacity. Can rebuild entire city blocks in hours. Scales with Intent Mana Affinity.
[Health fully restored.]
[All wounds repaired.]
[Stamina fully restored.]
[Max Mana Regenerated.]
Damian staggered backward from the artifact, eyes wide. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he felt… solid.
Strong.
He was whole again.
He opened his eyes—and blinked into the real world. Back inside the manor's ruined hall.
The air was still heavy with pain and exhaustion. But not for long.
Damian stood slowly, cracking his neck, a strange calm washing over him.
Evelyn turned to him first, eyes widening. "Wait—how are you—?"
"Don't ask," Damian said. "Just… clear the center of the room."
She did.
Damian raised his hand, palm open toward the sky.
"[Grand Restoration.]"
Light blood from his hand. Not just light—warmth. Mana. Life.
It poured from him like a river bursting through a dam. And everywhere it touched—the groaning wounded, the bleeding warriors, the unconscious civilians—they stirred. Healed. Wounds sealed, pain vanished, energy surged back.
Gasps and cries filled the room. People stood up, eyes wide with disbelief. Tears stread down cheeks. Even Cassius, mid-potion-sorting, froze.
"What in the actual hell…"
But Damian wasn't done.
He stepped outside.
The manor courtyard was still partially in ruins.
He closed his eyes.
Visualized it—every stone, every corridor, every damaged hall.
"[Fix]"
The air crackled. Magic rushed out like a storm, sweeping across the stone. Cracks sealed. Walls lifted. Rubble vanished. Windows restored. The manor breathed again, restored in seconds as if it had never suffered.
The city beyond still needed more. Much more.
But it was a start.
A real one.
Damian exhaled slowly.
And then—he smiled.
Cassius stomped into the hall, eyes narrowed, coat trailing ash and heat like a pissed-off storm. His boots practically cracked the floor. "What the hell happened?" he snapped, grabbing Damian's arm like he wasn't glowing with barely-contained god-tier mana.
"You were dying. DYING. And now you're—what—the miracle contractor of Haven?!"
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